


Pocket Full of Posies

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco finds himself in a bind when one of his brides changes plans at the last minute. He hopes this new-found flower grower can help him out, but only if he can manage to forget about their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket Full of Posies

"Tell me again why the hell I'm putting up with this crap?" 

"You're almost at the end. It's only a month till the wedding." 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Light at the end of the tunnel? That's the best you've got?" 

"You could be doing three other weddings or you could do this one and make more than those three combined. Remember it's not Jessica's wedding that this is about, it's the sister's. She's marrying that Italian prince bloke and you have to Jessica's wedding and her wedding, and that's where the real Galleons are." Draco opened his eyes and gave his loyal assistant a baleful look. His assistant then put his hands on Draco's shoulder and gripped Draco hard. "Think of the shit loads of Galleons to be made." 

"Right. You should have started off with the Galleons. You know that's the heart of the matter with me. Now get your hands of me, Macmillan. You're wrinkling my jacket." Draco shrugged away Macmillan's hands and pulled on his cuffs, straightening his sleeves. 

"It's only a dress fitting, it won't be bad. I could go," Macmillan said as he reached for his jacket. 

"And what? You'll go drop off the menu selection with the caterer? Then come back and answer the Floo, phone, and owl post?" 

"Why not? You could do the caterer bit and I'll take care of everything else," Macmillan said as if it was no problem at all. Draco worried his lower lip as he considered. He would do almost anything to avoid contact with the bride at this point, but no, the bride's sister would be there and it was a good chance to talk about the up coming plans for her wedding. 

"No. I'll go. But I'm taking my mobile thingy and call me every fifteen minutes. If she starts to go bad, I'll answer and then step out." 

"There's only so many times you can do that with her and get away with it," Macmillan said. 

Draco snorted and said, "She hasn't tried to hex me yet." 

"You're in a Muggle shop, she won't do that." 

Draco looked at Macmillan and arched his brows and simultaneously they said, "Yes, she would." 

Draco nodded and Disapparated. He arrived in an alley on the other side of the road from the shop. He stepped onto the pavement and squinted at the beautiful bright window display. He felt a small bit of release. This was another reason he could endure this job. The bride, Jessica, was marrying a Muggle born and wanted a Muggle wedding dress. A dress from a wizarding designer who mostly dealt in robes would not do. It had been a trend over the past five years for witches to go elsewhere for dresses. That was usually to save some money, Jessica had no interest in saving money. She, with Draco's help, had picked one of the finest design houses in London. 

Draco hurried across the street to the shop. He smoothed his hair, straightened his pocket square and pulled open the door. 

The two girls behind the counter immediately looked up and both smiled at Draco. 

"Mr. Malfoy, how are you today?" the platinum blond one said. 

"Well. The -" 

"They're already in the fitting area," the less blond one said. "Go on back." 

Draco nodded and headed through an archway to the alterations department. 

Jessica, her mum, and the head seamstress, Martine, all looked up as Draco stepped into the large circular room. 

"Draco, darling, you made it," Jessica said as she stood and walked over to Draco. She grabbed his arms, digging her nails into his flesh, and kissed him once on each cheek. "I was thinking you were going to miss all the fun." 

"Has there been fun already? It's so early and you've already jammed someone's head on a pike?" Jessica laughed high and loud, Martine looked down, trying to hide her own smile, and Jessica's mum glared at Draco. She didn't think Draco was funny, ever. She leaned back in the sofa resting her stubby fingered hands on her large belly, and looked at Draco with that permanent frown she wore. She frowned so much the lines running from the corners of her mouth down her chin cut deep into her face, making her look like a doughy marionette. 

"Mrs Smith," Draco said and nodded at her. He didn't go and greet her with a kiss on the cheek; being in close contact with her tended to make him nauseous. The smell of her sickly sweet perfume had made him dizzy on more than one occasion. 

"Come, darling. Have a seat. My bridesmaids are trying on their dresses now." Jessica lowered her voice to a stage whisper and said, "I've bet the cheque at lunch that we have to let out Margaret's dress. She's gained a stone, at least. If she doesn't stay away from sweets I'm kicking her out of the wedding party. I don't want a fat bridesmaid." 

Draco patted her hand and said, "No need to be so drastic. We'll put her in some shape wear and everything will be fine." 

"Better we hex her mouth shut," Jessica said so only Draco could hear. Jessica led Draco over to the sofa and urged him to sit. He brushed her off and stood by Martine instead. Martine was a tidy, middle-aged woman who wore big round glasses, had long, straight hair, always wore black and always had a measuring tape around her neck and a pocket full of straight pins. 

"Where'd you get your suit tailored?" she asked, looking Draco up and down. Draco made sure to look unimpressed by the compliment, he knew he looked good but having someone with an eye for fashion confirm his knowledge was all the better. The suit was a few years old, but it was still a good one; Italian worsted wool, in navy. 

Draco smoothed his bright blue and black striped tie as he said, "Why? Looking to hire someone?" 

"Perhaps," she said with a careless shrug. 

"I'll get you his card, but I doubt you can afford him."

"We'll see about that," she replied and Draco graced her with a small smile. He couldn't help but like her nonplussed attitude. 

"What the hell is the matter? What is taking so long? It's a bleeding dress," Jessica said. Draco closed his eyes trying to stave off being frustrated over things he couldn't control, such as the Jessica's impatience and somewhat crude manners. 

"Calm down, Jessie. You'll give yourself a stroke," one of the bridesmaids said as she stepped from her fitting room. It was Lydia, she was the youngest of the wedding party but the only one who had enough spine to stand up to Jessica. Maybe since she was the groom's sister she felt a little more comfortable in her ability to keep a position in the wedding party. 

She stepped onto the pedestal and turned to face them with her hands on her hips. "You look perfect," Draco said walking up to her with Martine one step behind. They both looked her over with a critical eye. Pulling a strap here, fixing a pleat there. Draco could tell that there would hardly be any alterations needed here. Lydia was tall and slim, like her brother. The spiced wine silk chiffon dress looked like a dream on her. 

"This hem could be shortened," the seamstress said pulling up the skirt an inch. Draco stepped back and looked. He nodded in agreement. Lydia had long lean legs, they should show them off. 

"No," Jessica said with an exaggerated wince and she stood from the sofa. "Her knees are knobby and I don't want to draw any more attention to them than necessary." 

"What about my shoulders? Are those knobby, too, or am I allowed to wear my hair up?" Lydia gathered her thick, black, curls in her hands and piled them on top of her head. 

"You have to wear your hair up. I'm wearing my hair down so I want every one else's up," Jessica said as she circled Lydia like a hawk. "Try not to look so tall." Lydia caught Draco's eyes in the mirror and then rolled hers but didn't say anything. 

"Jessica, sweetheart, you've such a beautiful neck. Why won't you wear your hair up?" her mother said from the sofa, she was drumming her sausage-like fingers on her belly. 

"Dean likes my hair down," Jessica replied as she waved her hand to Lydia to go away. Draco offered Lydia his hand as she stepped from the pedestal. 

"Jessica's hair is the only thing Dean will have a choice about," Lydia said quietly to Draco as she stepped down. Draco gave a brief nod in agreement. There was a lot about Jessica that Draco couldn't stand but not allowing the groom to have any say in the matter was standard fair for a bride. The few times Draco had seen Thomas, he had said maybe three words. He already knew it was easiest to let Jessica have what she wanted. 

"Don't go anywhere," Jessica said to Lydia. "I want you all together. And don't sit down! You'll wrinkle the dress." 

The next bridesmaid, Jessica's cousin, came out. 

"Where's Charlotte?" Draco asked assuming she'd be next. 

"She's in Italy with her prince," Jessica said and then venomously added, "Don't worry she'll be back next week so you can go sodding cake tasting with her." Charlotte's wedding occuring on the heels of Jessica's was a sore spot to say the least. Draco sighed to himself; he should have let Macmillan take this one. He steeled himself to endure the rest of the appointment. 

The bridesmaids came out one by one. There were minimal alterations needed, even for Margaret who Draco didn't think looked too bad. Nothing a couple days of nothing but a liquid diet wouldn't cure, or perhaps a good three day cleanse. 

As they were all finished, pins holding dresses together here and there, Jessica had them line up so she could see them together. 

"You all look lovely," Draco said as he slowly looked at each one. The appointment had gone smoothly enough; Jessica was a bitch to everyone, which was to be expected. 

"Martine, can I get that swatch of fabric for my florist?" Jessica asked. Martine nodded and left the room to go get the fabric. 

"You'll pick these up in a week and charm them the correct colour?" Jessica said turning to Draco. 

"What?" Draco said. "The colour is perfect." Draco walked over to the closest bridesmaid and pulled out her skirt. "It will catch the candlelight of the ceremony perfectly. See?" 

"That was when my wedding was at night. I will be getting married on a perfect spring afternoon." Jessica said. 

"Afternoon wedding? The invitations have already gone out," Draco said trying to keep his blood pressure from sky-rocketing. 

"Right, you'll have to work your magic and make it look like a spring afternoon."

"Spring? You're getting married November fourth at six o'clock at night. I will be full dark." 

"Once you sort out all the atmospheric spells, and the lighting, it will feel like a spring afternoon," Jessica said. 

"Why don't you get married in the spring if you want a spring wedding," Draco said even though he already knew the answer. 

"We're wizards. We don't have to wait till spring," Jessica said and then skipped subject before Draco could object again. "The dresses will be a perfect shale green to go along with the purple lilacs they will be carrying." 

"Lilacs?" Draco said. "You can't get lilacs in November, they're a spring flower." 

"Exactly, darling," Jessica said as if Draco was perhaps slow. "The roses we have planned won't do. I want lilacs, allium, lilies, cosmos, dahlias, gardenias for the men. It will be beautiful. Do you think perhaps we can get a nice light breeze for the reception? Or is that a bit over the top?" 

Draco could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and feel the phone vibrating in his pocket. He should answer it and get out of here quickly before he exploded. He took a breath. No answering the phone. This was his job; he could do this. "Jessica, your wedding is in a month. You're asking for a complete overhaul of everything that has been planned." 

"Oh, Draco," Jessica trilled, "Not everything. A few changes here and there. Martine, there you are. The fabric, thank you. Hand it to Draco, he handles all the details." 

Martine handed Draco the swatch and he clutched it tightly in his hand, strangling the life out of it as if it were Jessica's neck. 

"Go get changed everyone. I'm hungry," Jessica barked at her wedding party. "Draco, sorry you can't join us for lunch. It looks like you have work to do."

**** 

It was the perfect autumn morning. The air was crisp and ripe with the scent of fallen leaves and rain. The air was cold enough that Draco needed his jacket and scarf but not so cold that his face ached. Pansy had her arm through his as they walked through the Saturday Market at the end of the High Street in Diagon Alley. He had just bought a packet of roasted Spanish almonds, and he could feel the warmth of them through the paper packet, which crinkled every time Pansy took one. It was an idyllic autumn moment but all Draco could think about was spring. Fucking fuckety fuck fucking spring.

"I almost drew my wand on her in the fitting room." 

"Why didn't you? Jessica's always been a little cunt, would have served her right," Pansy said as she reached back and smoothed her ponytail for the five hundredth time. 

"You aren't helping. I'm telling you so I can keep my head about this and not kill her before the wedding." 

"Charge them more. If she wants all these changes charge her for them."

"I will, of course. But it's not enough. I've had indigestion every day since the bloody fitting. All these changes so close to the wedding are going to kill me. It's like planning an entire new wedding. In four weeks, a wedding in four weeks! Do you know what I do when people come to me and want to plan a wedding in anything under six months?" 

"You charge them triple your regular rate. I've always thought that was generous of you. They deserve far worse if they think that a spectacular event can be planned over night." They passed the stall roasting sausages and Draco could almost feel his indigestion flare up at the scent of all that grease. Pansy slowed to make eyes at the proprietor as usual and Draco had to drag her away. 

"Don't you think it's a little suggestive always eyeing the sausage man?" Draco said. 

"He's the one laying his wares out for me to eye." 

Draco huffed when he normally would have laughed. This wedding was going to kill him. "I charge them triple because it's triple the work. I've already worked on this sodding wedding for ten months and now it's like I'm starting over. It's ridiculous. And the flowers are a fucking nightmare."

"Angelo can't help?" Pansy said with a sideways glance at Draco. The florist was a sensitive subject with Draco and she knew it. 

"I've sent Macmillan there every day to try and figure where they can get the flowers from, and nothing. The flowers she wants aren't typically grown in mass quantities out of season because few people ever want an autumn wedding with sodding lilacs." 

"I like Macmillan, but shouldn't you go talk to Angelo? This isn't something to pass off. Bet he'd be more willing to bend over backwards for you." Draco saw Pansy bite her lower lip as she suppressed a laugh.

"This isn't fucking funny! Macmillan is very good at his job and I don't care how bad I need these damn flowers. I am not crawling into Angelo's shop and begging for them and you bloody well know that. Being within a mile of him makes my skin crawl." 

Pansy stopped and pulled her arm free from Draco's so she could glare at him properly as she said, "Then tell Jessica to fuck off and be done with it." 

"I can't. The -" 

"The sister. I know." Pansy patted Draco's cheek with her leather gloved hand and said, "Cheer up Draco. Eat your nuts and walk around the market with me. When I'm done I'll take you back to work and you can go back to being upset about the wedding. If you're a good boy I'll buy you one of those apple hand pies and you can eat it and be happy for the three bites it will take you to finish it." 

"No, because then I'll feel disgusting," Draco said as he stood up straighter to show his fine physique, which he planned on keeping the rest of his life, thank you very much. 

"I'll share it with you," Pansy said batting her eyelashes. 

Draco narrowed his gaze at her and said, "Macmillan won't be there. He's at some Muggle wedding today." 

"Damn. I'll have to come by Monday then," Pansy replied and tucked herself back against Draco's side and pulled him to walk with her. 

"Wear the red jumper. He won't be able to form a coherent sentence if you show up in that," Draco said and Pansy smiled. He was trying to enjoy himself. 

They walked through the stalls of potatoes, carrots, beets, turnips, lettuce, squash and other fall vegetables. They went slower through the apples, pears, cranberries and figs; Pansy cared more for fruit than vegetables. Draco bought a bag of Cox Pippen apples, his favourite, and picked up some figs for his mother. 

They moved to stalls selling plants and the like. Draco never paid much mind to the plants. When he had bought his terraced house, Mother had sent over the gardener to take care of the few plants and bushes. If they were left to Draco's care they would have long since died. 

As Pansy fingered a beautiful golden mum Draco thought it was a shame Jessica had changed the idea for her wedding. It wasn't just because it was a pain in Draco's arse, but autumn was such a beautiful time of year. He had carefully planned and organised the colour scheme and menu for the wedding. It was going to be everything that was beautiful in the autumn and now Jessica was throwing it away. Draco hated her even more for it. 

The flower issue was like throwing salt in Draco's already aching wound. Every single flower Jessica demanded was next to impossible to get. The orange, yellow, and red roses they had planned on were much easier to find in the quantity they needed. If things continued to go this way he'd have to go to Australia and take every single spring blossom from the entire continent. 

Draco moved to turn away from the flowering annuals to the herbs and he accidentally trod on a woman's foot. "I'm sorry," Draco said automatically. 

"It's alright, deary. So crowded," the woman said to him. She was a short, yellow haired woman, about Draco's mum's age, and in her arms she carried a large bouquet of pink peonies. 

"Where did you get those?" Draco said almost rudely. "Sorry. I'm not used to seeing those this time of year." Draco craned his neck to see if he had missed the stall with them. 

As he looked around he noticed several people carrying them. He'd been so wrapped in his mood that he hadn't noticed. 

"It's a new stall. He's down at the end of the row. No use going, he's all out," the woman said. "If you aren't there right when he arrives you haven't got a shot at one. He was packing up already."

"Does he come every week?" Draco asked. 

"For the past month, I think. He's more flowers then you've ever seen in your life." 

"Thank you," Draco said and quickly moved to get there before the man was gone. "Pansy! Come on."   
Draco didn't turn to see if she was following. He rushed past the stalls selling seafood, breads, pastries, and then past the magical ones selling potions ingredients and potions themselves. He shoved his way through the crowd gathered round the Weasley Wizard Wheezes' stall that promised one in three chocolates would put a Galleon in your pocket. He passed the magical herbs and plants, swatting at a vine that reached out for him. 

He was panting and clammy when he made it to the end of the row and found the last stall completely empty. Not even a single flower, petal, or trampled stalk was left. "Fuck," Draco wheezed, then slumped over and put his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. 

"Draco," Pansy said catching up to him and rubbing a stitch in her side. "What the hell is going on?" 

Draco looked and her and said, "Flowers." 

"What? You mean all those pink ones?" Pansy said pointing over her shoulder. 

"Yes. I need them. For the wedding." 

Pansy gave Draco a rare look of pity then she smoothed her hair and walked calmly over to the closest stall. Draco could see her talking to the elderly woman who sold magical fungi. She handed something to Pansy and Pansy turned back to Draco. 

"Here," Pansy said handing Draco a card. "Looks like Angelo isn't the only florist in town that you have a weak spot for." 

The card read: **Somerset Flower Farms** , in large square lettering. In smaller lettering beneath it read: _Specialising in Muggle blossoms with a bit of a magical touch_. Draco turned it over and cursed so much that it made Pansy laugh. Emblazoned on the back in gold, of course, it said: Harry Potter. Owner, Operator.

**** 

Draco's first thought when he Apparated just down the lane from Potter's farm was he should have worn different shoes. He'd forgotten how disgustingly muddy the country could be. Then his second thought eclipsed his first one; this place was beautiful. The trees were beginning to change colour, he could see apples growing in the orchard to his right, and down at the end of the lane he could see a wheat field not yet cut. It was a brilliant gold in the mid-morning sun.

It was somewhat a personal affront to Draco that Potter had set up camp a stone's throw from the Manor. Granted Draco lived in London now and Somerset wasn't Wiltshire but it was too bloody close to where he was from. Draco found it hard to remember to be upset as the soft breeze ruffled his hair and he caught the scent of salt in the air. He felt invigorated by his surroundings. 

He'd been up since too-bloody-early-o'clock so he could get to the _La Petite Mort_ before they opened. He beat Fleur with only seconds to spare. The moment she Apparated and caught sight of him she frowned. She lightened up a bit when he handed her a very hot café au lait and more Madagascar vanilla than she would need for a year but it still wasn't an easy task needling Potter's Apparation coordinates from her. 

Fleur drove a hard bargain but she was the best hope Draco had. She knew Potter and liked Potter but wouldn't be an over protective twat about it like Granger would be. Draco had to promise her not only the Malfoy Family Christmas Party, but the Ministry bash, and he had to discount his rate to plan her sister's wedding for next September. It was a sign of how desperate Draco was, or it might have been the sugar rush he got when Fleur gave him a chocolate croissant still warm from the oven. 

Draco had walked along what looked like a small portion of the property, and he looked down the lane at the rest of it. It was completely surrounded by a high stone wall. The wall was crowned in clematis that was close to blooming; Draco could see the delicate white buds and once they opened the lane would be awash with their sweet scent. The manor had the same vines covering the gate to the topiary garden. 

Draco tried not to let that bother him as he reached the gate. It was as high as the walls, wooden with a small crescent moon shape cut out of the top. Draco tried the slightly rusted latch, it clicked right away, and he pushed the gate open. Draco figured if Potter wanted people to knock or owl first he wouldn't leave his gate unlocked. 

He stepped into the garden and was amazed at its quaint beauty. He could see Potter's house a couple hundred yards away. Yellow stone with at least two chimneys. It was large enough for a good sized family, but Draco was sure Potter lived alone. At the corner of the house on the drive Draco saw an old beat up Land Rover parked. He snorted a laugh. Potter drove the same car as every country Muggle. Behind the drive was a long row of bushes that obscured the rest of the property, and Draco wondered what was behind them: hopefully Potter's secret stash of spring flowers. To his immediate right was a large swath of grass with a broom shed tucked to the side near the wall. A Quaffle lay forgotten in the middle of the grass. Draco looked to his left and there was Potter, sitting on his heels in his vegetable patch, his hands on his thighs and giving Draco a curious look. 

Draco nodded at Potter and made his way towards him. He kept to the stone garden path; he didn't want to be rude and tromp across Potter's well-tended earth, nor did he care to get his shoes any dirtier than they were bound to get. He was flanked by three varieties of pumpkins and several kinds of squash. Despite the chill in the air, Potter's face was damp with sweat and his Falmouth Falcons t-shirt clung to his chest and stomach. He turned his head to his right and shrugged his shoulder to push his glasses back up his nose. He couldn't use his hands; he wasn't wearing gloves and so they were black in dark rich dirt and what Draco's nose told him was dragon manure. 

"Draco," he said as if he'd been expecting him. 

Draco stepped to him, stuck out his hand and said, "Harry." He had to force the name out, it felt absurd to call him Harry, but he didn't want to start things off on the wrong foot. 

Potter lifted his own hand as if to wipe it on his jeans before shaking Draco's, but then he looked at Draco and something flashed in his eyes. He took Draco's hand with his filthy one and grasped it firmly. Draco could feel the grime and shit transferring to his own hand and was absolutely revolted but kept his face straight as he said, "Nice vegetable patch." 

Potter put his hands on his hips and shrugged, "Don't really need to keep one anymore. There's a lot of people who want to trade what they grow for what I grow, but I like doing it, so it's hard to stop." 

"What are you going to do with all those pumpkins?" Draco asked. He must have passed at least thirty of them. 

"Teddy and I will carve them. Decorate the drive with them," Harry replied. 

"Oh yes, the godson." Draco felt the uncomfortable prickle of past embarrassment at the casual mention of Teddy Lupin. It had been at his second birthday party where Draco had last seen Potter. Draco's mother had forced him into going to the party because Andromeda and her grandson were the last family they had. Trying to ignore the past, for the moment, Draco gestured around the wide open land and said, "He must love visiting you here." 

"He does enjoy it here," Harry said and then there was an awkward silence. Draco didn't want to be too direct and ask to see his flowers, but he was finding it hard to make the small talk that would lead to his ultimate goal.

"I didn't know you were a Falcons supporter. They took a right shit this year before the playoffs," Draco said. 

"Huh?" 

"Your shirt," Draco said pointing at Potter. 

"Oh. I'm not. I usually get dressed in the dark and have no idea what I'm putting on. I think someone left it here or I picked it up somewhere." 

Draco's felt his stomach lurch and before he could stop himself he said, "It's good to know I wasn't Potter's only gay dalliance." So much for keeping cool about this whole thing. 

"A kiss doesn't qualify as much," Potter said back. 

"Then what do you call doing the Falcon's very gay Beater?" 

Potter's face hardened at this but he kept his tone neutral. "Why are you even here? I don't think you came to check up on my social life." 

It took everything in Draco not to retort so he simply said, "Flowers." 

"Flowers?" 

"Yes." Draco pulled Harry's card from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "I've a wedding coming up and I'm in desperate need of flowers." 

"I don't grow roses," Potter replied. 

"I don't need roses. I'm told you might be able to help me with more specialty blossoms." 

Potter sighed, moved past Draco, and said, "Let me wash my hands first. Come on." 

Draco followed Harry down another path that led to the back of the house. Potter went to a large stone sink and nudged the water on with his elbow. As he reached for a bar of soap he looked at Draco and gestured for him to wash his hands, or rather, hand as well. 

Draco rolled his eyes and said, "I wouldn't even have to do this if you owned a pair of gardening gloves." 

"I've several," Harry said as he handed him the sudsy soap. "I misplace them, a lot." 

Their hands brushed momentarily as they both rinsed them but Potter pulled quickly away. He dried his hands on a towel that lay over the side of the basin and then handed it to Draco. 

He then looked Draco up and down, and Draco felt the back of his neck grow warm. He didn't think Potter would look at him so openly. "You might want to consider changing your shoes. They're bound to get ruined. There's some spare wellies by the patio, go grab a pair." 

Draco felt his pride had been slightly bruised as he walked – tripped – with Potter to his flower field in wellies that were a size too big. Potter looked like the elegant, rustic farmer in his sturdy denims and boots, and Draco felt slightly ridiculous. 

Potter led the way down one of the many paths leading from the back of his house. The further they walked, the more Draco could smell the ocean. They pushed through branches of overgrown trees and then they were in a wide-open clearing. 

The size was modest and nothing compared to the rows of tulip fields Draco had seen in the Netherlands but it was amazing all the same. The field was on fire with yellow, orange and red flowers. They looked like flicker flames as they rustled in the breeze. Potter walked along the border, his hand delicately dragging across the blossoms. He stopped at the row of dark red flowers and said, "The sedum is almost at its height. Should be there in another week or two." 

Draco walked toward Potter, his boots sinking into the soft ground. His annoyance with Potter over the wellies abated, slightly. He wouldn't enjoy this if all he could think about was mud-caked shoes. 

Potter pointed away from him and said, "I've some spider lily over there; they look good with other lilies, and maybe a rose or two. Obviously you'll get the roses somewhere else. There are of course helenium and some other daisies." Potter looked from his field and smiled at Draco; his eyes crinkled in the sunlight. "I don't think you're interested in any variety of daisy though." 

Draco was confused. "What?" he said. "I like daisies." 

Potter shrugged and said, "I didn't mean you. I meant one of your very discerning brides. I didn't think a country flower like the daisy would interest them." 

Draco turned his head the other way, and could see the rows of purple and green that he'd missed when he stepped into the clearing. The whole thing was remarkably perfect and then the breeze came up again and carried another strong scent of the ocean to Draco. This was terrible. He couldn't tell Potter that, no, the daisies weren't the problem. All these flowers were the problem. Where were the bloody peonies? 

"How far are you from the ocean?" Draco asked as he turned back to Potter. Potter had moved down a row of flowers and was cutting them at random with a small silver knife. It looked like the knife required for a Potions' class. 

Potter looked out across the field and pointed with his chin, "About a mile and half as the crow flies. I'm not right next to it." He took a long step over a row of flowers and walked back toward Draco, cutting more flowers as he went. "My neighbor, who owns all those fields there, he's right on some cliffs. I'm close enough. Good temperate air for my regular garden. It's good for the summer if we manage five minutes without rain." 

"Where are your summer flowers?" Draco asked. 

"I plant spring and summer in a different field. I put them to east, I like them to have the morning sun as afternoon can be a bit much. No point going over there, they're all gone." 

Draco looked at Potter and hoped his face didn't betray that he thought Potter was full of shit. He'd had peonies just two days ago. "Those are the only fields you have?" Draco said trying to keep his tone light. 

"Well, yeah. For my seasonal ones. There's the out of season ones I grow, too. I reckoned it was an autumn wedding so you'd want autumn flowers that's why I brought you here." 

"The bride wants spring flowers." 

Harry chuckled, "You should have said so. Come on, let's go take a look." Harry cut two more flowers and then headed away from the field in a different direction from which they'd come. Draco followed behind him, trying not to get his hopes up too much that Potter was taking him to the Valhalla of flowers.

They turned to the right, heading back to the heart of Potter's land, and then took another left. Up ahead Draco could see a long stone wall just like the ones surrounding the front of Potter's property. He saw only two sides: on one the vines crowning the wall were brown and dead, but the other was blossoming like the ones by the lane. 

The path led to a solid iron gate, like one would find in a dungeon. Draco tapped it with his toe and said, "What are you hiding back here. Nothing dangerous I hope." 

"I did have a problem with some wasps earlier this year, but no. I wanted something as sturdy as the walls." Harry took out his wand and tapped the gate in a complicated pattern, Draco heard the locks shift and finally click. Harry pushed open the door and held it for Draco. "After you." As Draco passed Potter he noticed an 'II' engraved on the door frame. 

Draco stopped dead in the doorway. He was saved. It was every flower Jessica wanted in every colour. There were yellows and light pinks and pinks so bright they could make your eyes hurt. There were greens and purples so vividly violet they were almost blue. On the far side at the edge of the garden Draco could see large green bushes with purple flowers, lilacs. It was better than he hoped for. Draco did his best to act casual, he could feel Potter's eyes on him. 

He took one step off the path onto the ground and felt the air around him shift. It was no longer a crisp autumn day, it was a warm spring one. He snapped his head around so quickly towards Potter that he almost hurt himself. Potter looked as proud as a peacock standing right behind him. 

"You approve?" Potter asked and his voice sounded almost tentative, like he wanted Draco's approval. 

"I've never seen anything like it," Draco said. 

Potter had the courtesy to look sheepish. He dropped his head and stepped past Draco as he said, "I didn't invent the idea on my own. I've seen similar in a couple different places around the world. I'm hardly an innovator but I managed enough magic to make it work for me here." 

Draco took another tentative step and Potter said, "Have a look around. You know not to trample the flowers." 

Potter walked over to a shrub that had dangly stalks all covered in white flowers. He took out his knife again and cut a few off adding them to his growing bouquet 

Draco looked around the edges first. He could see an apple tree in full blossom and two evergreens the likes of which he had never seen before. There were more trees and shrubs around the edges, but in the middle were the long rows of flowers. There was the row that must have been the peonies Potter sold last week and on the other side of that what must have been tulips. There was nothing left in those rows but their greenery, the blossoms gone. 

Draco felt warm as he walked down the rows of flowers and slipped off his jacket. It was amazing, a whole sub climate right here in the middle of Potter's farm. 

"So what is this?" Draco said as he turned to Harry. "Perpetual spring?" 

"No, not quite." Harry moved to stand by Draco, so close their shoulders bumped for a moment. "I've two acres of land behind these walls. Right now this is spring," Harry pointed straight in front of them. "Over there is another walled part, half an acre, that's summer. To the west of that is currently autumn and to our left is winter. They're all sub climates, except for one which runs with the natural growing season, unless we have a particularly cold spring or summer, in which case I will warm it up a bit. All the seasons move through each section, plants need four seasons. I can't force them with magic to bloom year round, they'd die." 

"It's what?" Draco said looking around. "Early May in here?" 

"That sounds about right," Potter said and reached down, pulled up a flower and looked at it. "Yeah, the season is almost at its height." 

"Do you come in here every day and adjust the weather?" Draco asked as he pondered all the time that must take. 

Harry laughed. "No. No. I'm not Hermione. It's a meteorological and time spell sort of thing. I can't go back in time or forward in time but I can make the air around feel like we're tilted toward the sun or away from it. It's a mixture of spells, almost like putting wards on a building." 

Draco wanted to marvel at the whole notion of it. It was amazing magic. He gave a half-shrug and said, "I never imagined you'd do anything this remotely interesting." 

Harry laughed and nudged Draco with his shoulder, on purpose now. "Highest praise I've ever got from you. I'll take it. So tell me what you want." 

Draco looked at Harry and said, "All of it. Every last spring flower you have, including the lilacs." 

"When's the wedding?" Harry asked. 

"Three weeks. You can have these all cut and ready to go in three weeks, right?" Draco smiled at Potter, a real genuine smile. The excitement was getting to him. 

"I don't know, Draco..." Potter was beginning to look uncomfortable. 

"I'll pay whatever you want. It's not my money anyway, so I don't give a shit. Name your price." 

"It's not that." Potter rubbed the back of his neck and then pushed his fringe back into his messy hair.

"What's the problem then?" Draco asked. Potter looked put off all of a sudden. There was a crushing blow coming. Draco could see it there in his eyes. "Can't you learn to control your face better, you look like you're going to tell me someone died." 

Potter's expression changed in a snap from slight annoyance to anger. "I can't sell you the flowers because in three weeks is will be late spring in here. Most of these will be gone, including your lilacs." 

"We'll get them from the section moving into spring then," Draco said. 

"Do you want tulips and daffodils, maybe some hyacinth? You know, early spring flowers." 

"I know what flowers bloom when," Draco snapped. 

"Right. So then you know these, the ones you want will be past peak," Harry said and crossed his arms stubbornly. 

Draco crossed his arms and glared at Potter. "Then put a preservation charm on them and I'll pay you for that too." 

Harry closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and then put them back on and looked at Draco. "Draco. It doesn't work that way. Flowers aren't overly complicated organisms. You can't put too much magic on them or you destroy them. The magic surrounding them is all they can take." 

"How do you know? Have you even tried?" 

"What do you take me for? Does is look like I know what I'm doing here? I really can't help you, I'm sorry." 

"I don't think you are," Draco replied. "I think you like telling me no." Draco felt his face flush as he remembered Potter's lips against his, their kiss, hot and wet. Potter's hand trailing down his back and Draco boldly grinding his erection against Potter's thigh. Then Potter stopped everything and said, 'No'. 

"Don't be that way. This isn't about us, it's about work and I would help if I could but I can't. I can't give you want you want for a wedding in three weeks. If you'd come here six months ago, I could have fiddled with the growing season but now, it's too late." 

Draco could not get that moment from five years ago out of his head. Potter was standing there, denying him, and it felt exactly the same. Draco's insides twisted uncomfortably, he needed to go. "I'm sorry, I've wasted both our time. I'll leave you to your work." 

Potter made a noise in the back of his throat but didn't say anything. He led Draco out of the spring time garden and closed and warded the door behind them. He led Draco down the path and silently back to the house where Draco took off the muddy wellies and put on his own shoes. 

"I'll show myself out," Draco said. 

"Here," Potter said handing him the bouquet of flowers he had made as they walked around. It was what Draco would call a "growers mix", whatever was in bloom, except for it had both spring and autumn flowers in it -- elegant in its rare combinations. "Please take these to your mum for me." 

"Why are you giving my mother flowers?" Draco asked even though he knew that since the war his mother and Potter had some sort of weird connection. Potter had returned Draco's wand at her invitation, had been invited to every Malfoy event since the war, and when mother donated money to any war rebuilding fund it was always in Potter's name. 

Potter shrugged and said, "Women like flowers." 

Draco decided not to ask anymore questions. He needed to get out of here. It looked like he needed to Floo to Australia if this wedding was going to happen. He nodded at Potter and turned and left.

**** 

"What?" Draco said or rather yelled. Perhaps more of screech but he was fucking on edge and Macmillan knew better than to stand in the back door and look at him that way. Macmillan rarely worried, and when he did it was bad, very bad.

He stood in the doorway with a box from the printer's under one arm, his other hand was balled into a fist, and he was gnawing on his lower lip so firmly that the colour had drained out of it. Whatever the blow he was about to get from Macmillan was a bad one. Draco puffed harder on his cigarette hoping it would dull the pain. 

"You told me to stop you from smoking when I got back," Macmillan replied. 

"I've only had three, I'm not done yet." 

"When you hired me you told me not to even let you have one." 

"That was years ago. I've earned it." 

Macmillan shifted the box from the printer to his other arm and said, "Earned how many exactly?" 

"It doesn't fucking matter. It's either this or I kill someone. I can't kill the bride or her mother because they're how I'm getting paid. Pansy has immunity along with my parents. Shall I send your parents your remains in a box or are you going to let me smoke as much as I bloody well want to?" Draco threw the almost finished cigarette on the ground and stomped on in before Vanishing it. He pulled out another cigarette from the pack and had in his mouth ready to light when he noticed Macmillan was still staring at him. "Aht?" Draco said around the cigarette. 

"I...er..." Draco waved his hand at Macmillan gesturing for him to get on with it, while he pulled out his wand with his other hand. "I ran into Angelo." 

"Uck!" Draco pulled the cigarette out and threw it on the ground and then said, "Fuck," again. Macmillan shifted the box again and Draco said, "Put those sodding programs down and come tell me what he said." 

Macmillan disappeared for a moment and then came straight back, empty handed and he still looked very uncomfortable. Draco put his hands on his hips and stared at Macmillan. "He said he heard that you had been to see Harry and that Harry wouldn't help you. He said if you came and talked to him, he'd help you." 

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed the space between his brows. "Wouldn't help me or couldn't help me?" Draco looked up at Macmillan. 

"What do you mean?" Macmillan knitted his eyebrows so tightly together that it looked like two brown caterpillars about to bump heads. 

"Did that Italian shit say that Potter wouldn't help me or couldn't help me?" 

"He called him Harry. I thought that was the bit you would care about." Draco felt his eyes go wide at the statement and Macmillan immediately looked down. 

"I don't care if Angelo's on a first name basis. Why would I care? What did Pansy say?" This talk of Potter was unsettling Draco and he reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Macmillan looked up at the crinkling sound and took three quick steps to Draco. He pulled the pack out of Draco's hand and Vanished it in a snap. "What the hell Macmillan?" 

"Shut up Malfoy and listen." He was rarely so firm with Draco, so Draco was stunned into silence more than anything else. "Pansy didn't say anything about you and Harry, but I could probably guess now what it would be. What I meant is Angelo is on a first name basis with Harry, which probably means Harry sells to him. Maybe Harry does have flowers and he's just not telling you." 

"Potter isn't like that. He's too noble for devious." Draco said even though he could already feel doubt creeping in.

"Maybe he already sold them to Angelo and didn't tell you. Tried to let you down easy," Macmillan said with a shrug. 

"Potter has no interest in being gentle with my feelings," Draco said and Macmillan smirked. 

"Then maybe he didn't want you on his arse about the flowers and told you a lie so you would go away." 

Draco narrowed his eyes at Macmillan and said, "Bastard."

"You going to see Harry or Angelo?" Macmillan asked, and Draco strode inside to grab his jacket. 

"Fuck Angelo and his fucking flowers. If Potter was lying, I'm going to shove every single last flower he has up his arse." Draco put on his coat and was still tying his scarf when he took out his wand to Disapparate. 

He landed in the lane, this time closer to Potter's gate, and was struck by the scent of on-coming rain, and a fire. This only served to spoil Draco's mood further; it reminded him of the fields around the manor in the autumn. 

"Damn, fucking, Potter." Even if it was only for his own benefit it felt good to curse Potter.   
Draco pushed open the gate and immediately looked to the vegetable patch, half-assuming that he would find Potter there like he did on his first visit. Nothing there but pumpkins and squash that were all much bigger than they had been when he was here almost two weeks ago. 

Draco looked around and hadn't the first clue as to where to find Potter. He could be in one of his hidden gardens, but even if Draco could find them he had no idea how to get in. There was the likely-hood Potter was in his regular flower field, but it was getting on to evening and Draco assumed Potter did most of his work in the morning. 

He looked to his right and caught a glimpse of someone, not Potter, as they disappeared around a corner. Draco hurried along the stone path to try and catch him. The smell of fire grew stronger with each step. 

Draco rounded the house and saw Potter talking to the man Draco had seen. Potter was leaning against the handle of a large rake and pointing something out to the man. In front of them was a small pile of branches and leaves on fire. 

They must have both sensed Draco's presence, because they both turned at the same time and looked at him. The man, was short, paunchy, a few years past middle age, with a very distinct chin. He looked at Draco with open curiosity. Potter looked surprised at first but then smiled as he strode towards Draco. 

He was wearing a zip up hoodie, that was speckled with dirt, although not nearly as much as the knees of his trousers, and his cheeks were pink from the chill in the air. 

"What? Why are you so happy?" Draco asked. He felt suddenly off by seeing Potter so initially pleased. He'd been expecting a scowl like he got last time he showed up unannounced. 

"I was hoping you'd stop by again." 

"Why? What do you want? More of my business? I already have reliable florists, and growers." Draco wanted to bite his tongue for letting his mouth get away from him. Being an arse to Potter at this moment wasn't going to help him in anyway possible. 

Something flashed in Potter's eyes, but when he replied to Draco there was no hint of him taking exception to Draco's tone. "More of your business is always appreciated. I don't really need it though. I enjoyed it when you came by the other day. For the most part anyway. I thought it would be nice to see you again without the whole business part in the way." 

_Shit._

Draco was saved from replying; The man at the burn pile shouted something to Harry. Harry turned around and started yelling, "No, no, no." He jogged the short distance back to the man. As Draco followed he could hear them arguing in French. Harry's was rough, but the mere fact he spoke any at all surprised Draco. The man, who was clearly French, was speaking rather violently about a set of bulbs he was insisting on burning and Potter was trying to stop him. 

Draco wondered who this man was. He'd initially thought it was Harry's employee, but if Macmillan ever spoke to Draco this way Draco would set Macmillan’s bollocks on fire. 

As Draco stepped closer to them the Frenchman stopped talking and looked at Draco. He then looked at Harry and asked who was this man, Harry's lawyer? 

Harry snorted a laugh and said, in English, "Thierry, this is Draco, an old schoolmate of mine. Draco, Thierry, my fantastic assistant." 

"Bonjour, Thierry," Draco said putting out his hand.

Thierry took Draco's offered hand in his worn, callused one and laughed. He turned to Harry and told him that at least Draco learned better French than Harry did. 

"How can you tell?" Harry replied. "He said one word to you." 

Thierry shrugged and said he could tell. 

"Fine, you're right this time," Harry replied. "But not about the tulips. Since you're such a pain about it, we'll store half of them. I'll plant the other half and you can order new ones, and we'll see which ones do better. Sound good?" Thierry snorted with distaste but nodded his head. "Good. I can handle the fire, you can go, it's been a long enough day already. There's a basket of veggies on the porch and make sure you tell Edita thank you for the bread." 

Thierry strode off around the back of the porch. 

"He works for you?" Draco said with surprise and not caring if his voice carried.

"Thierry is passionate about flowers. It's why I hired him." Potter poked at the fire with a long branch. He pushed a piece of debris further into the flames. 

Draco shook his head and said, "Potter you have a lot to learn about employees." 

Potter gave him a half smile and said, "He's really good. We worked together at this garden in Italy. When I bought this place I offered to pay him triple what he made there just to get him and his wife to move here. I thought Edita wouldn't want to, she's from Spain, doesn't care for the damp. They both seem happy here though." 

"If you were paying me triple I could pretend to be happy a lot of places," Draco replied. 

Potter looked at him and a smile shone in his eyes, but it didn't meet his mouth. "I don't think my interest in you has a monetary value." 

"You're right, it couldn't possibly. My worth can't be counted in Galleons." Draco meant it has a jest but the words came out far more than playful. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't be flirting with Potter, but he had been derailed from the task at hand. 

"It can't?" Potter smiled at him this time, but not in a warm or amused way. It wasn't overtly sexual but there was a sensuality about it that made Draco's stomach tighten with anticipation. "Maybe we should have dinner and talk about the best way to evaluate your worth. I'm available now. Would you like to come inside?" 

Draco wanted to say 'yes', and almost did, but Potter's last invitation and the rejection that quickly followed was never a memory far from Draco's mind. He felt his cheeks warm with the shame of the memory. Draco took a step back and said, "I am actually here on business. I'm at the end of my rope. I need help. I was told you have the flowers I need." Draco's voice sounded weird in his own ears. He was trying to be firm but he sounded anxious. 

Potter's brows wrinkled and he crossed his arms. "Who told you that?" 

"Angelo." 

"The florist?" 

"You know him then?" Draco replied, feeling he had some sort of victory over Potter. 

"Of course I do. He buys from me on a regular basis. He knows very well I don't have the flowers. He was here yesterday." 

"What was Angelo doing here?" Draco didn't want that lecherous Italian anywhere near Potter. Potter was his first. 

"He buys flowers from me," Potter replied. "I just said that." Potter poked the fire again with the stick. Draco glared at him; he couldn't tell Potter to stay away from Angelo but he really wanted to. "Jealous that you're not the only one who comes by?" Potter asked as he turned back to Draco, and he had the gall to smirk as he spoke. 

"Of course not. Angelo's a complete bastard. Sent me here to look like an idiot." 

"Angelo told you I had flowers? Exactly that, or something close to it?" Potter looked at him intently and Draco felt like Potter could read his every thought. 

"Not exactly," Draco said and looked down. "I heard something that made me think..." He looked back up at Potter who still looked at him in that soul searching way. "You don't understand. I'm fucked. I came here because you are my only hope. There has to be something, a charm, transfigure dead flowers, something. You're good at this Potter, you have to help me." Draco felt a bit of his dignity slip away as he pleaded with Potter, but it had to be done. 

Potter looked at him blankly and Draco was sure he was going to say no. Then he broke the stick he was holding over his knee, tossed it onto the fire and said, "Lets walk. I think better when I'm moving."

Harry walked with long sure strides and Draco had to hurry to catch up with him. 

They walked towards Potter's magical gardens first. "I need to check the wards. Thierry was in here earlier, and said something was off." They came up to the solid iron gate engraved with a 'I'. Potter tapped the gate with his wand and said to Draco, "No warming charms. Tough it out." 

Potter held the gate open for him and before Draco even stepped into the walled garden he could see it was the dead of winter. The earth was muddy and brown, the trees and bushes that ran along the border were completely bare of leaves. Draco crossed the threshold and felt the instant chill. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and pushed his hands in his pockets. "It's freezing in here," Draco said as he looked over his shoulder at Potter. 

"It's winter, but it does seem a bit colder than it should." Potter began to walk along the walls and stopped here and there to touch a stone. 

Draco watched him. There was no use looking around the garden, as dead plants were of no interest to Draco. "You should have put an evergreen or two in here. It's fairly depressing," Draco said as he shrugged his shoulders against the cold. 

Potter looked up from what he was doing and said, "They take up space. I have a couple in another garden. You saw them the other day. I use them when I want something wintery. They're also water hogs. Now quiet, I need to adjust the charms a bit." 

Potter took out his wand and started waving it in complicated patterns as he chanted words under his breath that Draco couldn't catch. It took a few moments and at the end of it all Draco felt nothing. "I don't think it worked," Draco said. 

"How can you tell?" 

"I didn't feel a thing and it's still cold as Snape's arse in here." Draco shivered and stuffed his hands further into his pockets. 

"I wasn't casting a spell on you," Potter said. "You have to be subtle with plants. I don't want to kill them off. It worked. You might not be able to tell, but I can. Come on, I can't feel my toes." Potter pushed open the gate. 

As Draco walked by Potter he said, "You're the expert but I bet come morning the entire place is solid ice." 

"Lofty words from someone anxious to buy flowers from me," Potter said. 

"Will being nice get me my flowers? In that case let me say that was very impressive magic Potter. The numbness I experienced had everything to do with your spell work and nothing to do with the bone chilling cold." Potter lightly pushed Draco and then closed the gate. 

"Arse," Potter said with a smile and then turned and led the way to another gate. 

Potter checked every season to make sure the chill hadn't spread to them. Draco followed him from walled garden to walled garden. He was amazed that he could pass from the freezing cold to warm, full blown summer. Draco had seen and experienced a lot of magic, but being in Potter's gardens was like stepping into a magical world the likes of which Draco had never known. When they passed through spring Draco could see that Potter hadn't been lying to him. The flowers he wanted a week ago had passed their prime and would be of no use to him when the wedding arrived. 

The sun was low in the sky as Potter finished up and Draco could feel the wind rising bringing the cold night air from the ocean. "I need to check my regular field," Potter said. "Want to come along? It's beautiful at sunset." 

Draco followed him willingly all the way over to the field. As they stepped through the trees and out onto the west-facing field Draco was struck by the beauty and magic that could never be created artificially. The sun burned yellow in a sky of blood orange and black clouds with deep indigos down at the horizon, the field full of flowers seemed to be echoing the colours of the sky. 

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Potter said. Draco looked over and saw Potter had been staring at him. 

"It's all right," Draco said with a shrug.

Potter chuckled and said, "Come over here." He led Draco to the left, a different way than they had gone Draco's first time here. Potter stopped by an apple tree and plucked one of the round, delicious fruits from its burdened branches. He tossed it in the air and as it fell, he hit it with his upper arm toward Draco. Draco caught it easily. 

"You still have good reflexes," Potter said. 

"I didn't know you ever noticed," Draco replied.

"I noticed." Potter picked another apple and took a large bite of it. Draco could see the juice running down Potter's dark stubbled chin. Draco wanted to reach out and run his thumb across Potter's chin and brush away the sweet juice. Potter wiped it with the back of his hand and Draco tried to be disgusted by that but all he could do was wonder if he licked Potter's chin if it would taste like apples. 

"It's a shame your bride doesn't want autumn," Potter said, looking past Draco out to the field. "They're the best flowers, right now." 

"You should have seen the wedding I had planned." Draco turned around to face the same direction as Potter. "It was all these colors. It was going to be amazing. Now she wants sodding spring." 

"Are you surprised a bride is temperamental? I mean, that is why you work with them. You can combat that behaviour well." 

"What does that mean?" Draco said with a playful smile. 

"I know how brides can be. I know how you are." 

"Are you calling me a bitch?" 

"I would never say that about you. Or any of the fine young ladies you work for. I just know, is all." Harry took another bite of his apple and moved a step closer to Draco. 

Draco studied Potter's face closely, from the top of hair that fluttered softly in the breeze down past his sun bronzed cheeks and slightly pink nose, his soft mouth, and firm square jaw. Draco moved his gaze back up to Potter's eyes. The eyes that every one and their grandmother noted, and how could you not? They were stunning in their colour, overwhelming in their expressiveness. You could read Potter in his eyes. Draco looked closely now and remembered the hate that used to burn in those eyes. Hate that was special, just for Draco. He remembered the first time Potter's eyes burned in a different way, not with hate but with desire. Draco would never forget the look in Potter's eyes as he pushed him away and said, "No, I can't." He wanted Draco, Draco knew it, but still Potter said 'no'. God it fucking stung Draco's pride and he had to know why. Draco didn't like living his life wondering about anything and so even though it could very well bite him in the arse he had to ask, "Is that why things didn't work out with the she-Weasley? She was a pain in the arse about the wedding?"

Potter let a small puff of air out of his nose. Draco prayed it was a sign of amusement, then he said, "No, not exactly. Certainly didn't help matters." 

"Was it me?" Draco asked, feeling like he might be sick depending on the answer. Potter actually softly laughed this time. 

"You? What do you have to do with Ginny and I breaking up?"

Draco felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment and his chest tighten with anger. "I don't think she cared too much for our snogging and practically fucking one another." 

Potter's eyes widened in shock and he said, "She doesn't know about that." 

"She doesn't?" 

"No! I didn't tell anyone. I mean - " 

"Why the hell did you kick me out of your flat then? You invited me in and then told me to leave while your hand was still rubbing my cock. I thought you were being your stupid noble self. I reckoned you told her, because two days later the Prophet was reporting your split."

"You want the gritty details about me and Gin or do you want to know why I couldn't? Not then at least." 

"You could, Potter. I felt your big prick against my hip," Draco snapped before he could stop himself. 

Potter's eyes flashed and he moved swiftly in front of Draco. He was so close their chests almost touched and Draco straightened up to his full height. Potter intimidated him standing like this and Draco wasn't going to let it show; he was going to use every bit of his height advantage. "Don't make it out to be something cheap. I liked you, yeah? I broke up with Ginny a few days before I saw you at Teddy's party. You have a way of working your way under my skin. I wasn't going to sleep with you then so you could think it was something to do with Ginny. You and I are only about you and I, and I'm not going to allow you to think otherwise." 

Draco arched one brow and said, "You _liked_ me? But you still want me to be clear on girl-Weasley?" 

Potter opened his mouth to reply and then shut it. 

He narrowed his eyes at Draco and said, "You're picking apart my words." 

"You expected better of me?" 

"Hardly. Would you like to come inside for dinner? I promise not to kick you out." 

Draco looked at his watch, "A bit early for dinner, don't you think?" 

"I get up really early. I had lunch at ten this morning and I forgot about tea. I'm starving right now, so lets go." Potter didn't wait for Draco to answer he turned and Draco fell in step beside him. 

They were both silent as they walked back to Potter's house. Now that something was settled between them the energy felt more charged than it ever had. What exactly had been settled between them Draco wasn't sure. Were they just going to fuck or did Potter have more plans beyond that? Knowing Potter, it was more than Draco anticipated. 

Potter might be expecting a quiet dinner where they talked and that would be the end of it. Being sent home with a meal and some conversation wasn't what Draco would be comfortable with. Draco chanced a look at Potter as he tried to figure out what was the next step. Potter met his look and Draco felt his stomach clench. There wasn't a single thing in Potter's face that made Draco think casual conversation. Given Potter's expression Draco wasn't surprised he hadn't been dragged down onto the grass for a quick one. Draco wasn't sure that's what he wanted either. Fucking Potter was a good idea, but that also meant Potter had much more invested than Draco could consider at the moment. 

As they arrived at Potter's back patio, Potter took a seat on the bench next to his back door and began untying his shoes. "Are your shoes muddy?" he asked and looked up at Draco. 

Draco checked the soles of his shoes but they were clean. 

Potter opened the back door and signaled Draco to go in. 

The kitchen was large and open, the warmth of it made Draco's cheeks suddenly sting. Draco could smell something savory. "Hope you like squash soup," Potter said. 

"I do. Usually," Draco replied. He was a bit distracted. Potter's house was nice, much nicer than he would have thought, had he given it a thought. Draco looked around and tried not to be too perplexed by the interesting but tasteful blue cabinets, the large windows that looked out to the back garden and the table perfectly situated so that Draco could imagine sitting there in the morning enjoying a cup of tea as you watched the shadows of the yard recede with the rising sun. The kitchen was warm and welcoming and Draco wanted to leave. Not for one second did he want to feel comfortable here. He felt like he would never want to leave if he allowed himself to relax. 

"I need to shower before we eat. I learned my lesson early on. If I don't shower before I eat there always ends up being dirt in my food." Draco turned to look at Potter. Potter's brow wrinkled at him and he said, "You aren't going to leave, are you?" 

"No," Draco said even though he had been thinking that Potter in the shower was the perfect time to escape. 

Potter frowned at him and said, "Promise me you won't leave." 

"I'm a grown man and I will do what I want." 

Potter sighed heavily and lightly touched Draco on the wrist. "You can go if you want. But I would really like if you stayed." 

Draco tried not to press into the touch of Harry's hand. "I'm not going anywhere. The least you could do is get me a drink to entertain me while you shower." 

"I can do that." 

They walked out of the kitchen into a room Draco would have called the library. Books lined two walls, and there were large comfortable looking chair everywhere. "Everything is in the cabinet over there," Potter said as he pointed to a sideboard on the other side of the room. "Help yourself. I'll be back in ten minutes." 

Draco heard Potter thunder up the stairs as he walked across the room. He poured himself a drink and moved slowly around. There were the requisite photos of the godson, one of Potter and his sidekicks, and there was one very old one of a group of teenage boys that Draco didn't recognise. Judging from the state of the hair on the one of the boys in the photo, Draco guessed it was Potter's dad. 

Draco moved onto the bookshelves. A large majority of the books were on gardening: magical gardening, Muggle gardening, gardening books so old that they looked like they could rival the age of some of the books at the manor. 

Draco rattled around the room, he was too nervous to sit, and even his drink held little interest to him. Despite telling Potter he would stay, Draco still thought it was better if he left. He was still completely fucked by not having the flowers and no matter how Potter looked at him, or what he said to him, it wasn't going to help anything. Draco couldn't relax. He put his still full drink down and was headed for the door when he heard Potter coming down the stairs. 

"You're here," Potter said when he saw him. 

"I said I wasn't going anywhere," Draco said and crossed his arms. He glared at Potter who had the indecency to look rather sexy post shower. His hair was still damp but was beginning to stick up in places as it dried. It looked less chaotic mess and more styled ordered mess. His skin was still flushed from the heat of the shower, especially on the under side of his jaw. Draco wanted to run his thumb across it. Worse still, he could smell Potter's clean skin and hair. Far worse than all of that, Potter didn't arrive in track pants and a t-shirt; he was wearing jeans and a black jumper. The dark colours made his pink lips and bright eyes stand out even more. His chest looked broad and his waist narrow. Draco wanted to pull the jumper off and see if Potter's skin on his chest was still flushed under his clothes as well. Draco could imagine the heat of Potter's skin on his finger-tips and the silky dark hairs on his chest and belly. What Draco assumed were dark silky hairs; he hadn't ever seen Potter with his shirt off, but he'd really like to. 

"Shall we eat?" Potter said. 

It took Draco a moment to come up with the proper response but he eventually managed to say, "Yeah, sure." 

They ate butternut squash soup, a green salad, and warm bread. The squash and greens had been grown by Potter. The soup was so rich and creamy it felt like it filled Draco's entire body with its warmth. 

"Where did you learn to do all this?" Draco asked half-way through their meal. "Not cook. I mean all the magical gardening things." 

"After it ended with Ginny, I needed to go somewhere. It was hard being around Ron, a little awkward, and Hermione felt trapped in the middle. Neville was going on a trip to study Mediterranean plants and he asked if I wanted to go along." 

Draco arched a brow and said, "You and Longbottom?"

"No, not like that. He was just being a mate. We went to this garden in Sicily because he wanted to look at this special plant variety. It was the first garden I had ever seen with Muggle flowers, but they were grown using magic It was incredible. The magic of it. (The power of it wasn't how strong but intricate. I ended up staying there a year. After that I traveled around a lot. Spain, Greece, and then to Asia and Australia. I was looking to do something like I saw in Sicily here and a couple years ago Hermione sent me an ad for this place. It was perfect, close to the ocean." 

"You've been back two years, then?" 

"Not quite." Potter swirled his bread around his bowl sopping up the last bits of his soup. 

"It was really so bad you had to leave for four years?" 

Potter smiled and shook his head, "No. I was fascinated and had no reason to return before I did. I hadn't really been anywhere." 

"Just as long as it wasn't me you were running from," Draco said. 

Potter looked up and him and shook his head. "God, no. You were almost a reason to stay." 

"I'm not trying to flatter myself but yes my kissing is that good."

Potter had the decency to chuckle but said, "It wasn't that. I wanted you, thought about you. Still, I had to go. The timing wasn't right." 

"If you thought about me why didn't you come find me when you got back?" Draco asked as he pushed away from the table. 

"I knew you would come around eventually. I knew about your business and parties, and weddings need flowers. Our paths would eventually cross." Potter sounded very nonchalant about the whole thing. 

"I didn't think patience was a trait you possessed." 

"Not usually, but I knew you had to come to me. After what happened I didn't want you to think I was playing with you or anything." 

"I'm here now. What's next?" 

Harry pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He walked around the table, keeping his gaze fixed on Draco the whole time. Draco didn't move a muscle, he watched Potter the entire way. Potter reached his chair and stood over him for a moment. He then leaned down and placed a hand under Draco's chin. He arched Draco's face up a fraction, leaned down and kissed him. 

Draco gripped the back of Potter's neck and pulled him in closer to deepen the kiss. Potter's mouth tasted like the ginger that seasoned the soup and the ale he drank with dinner. Potter pushed his tongue deeper into Draco's mouth. Without breaking their kiss Draco stood abruptly from his chair, causing it to skid across the floor. He pulled Potter closer to him with one hand and gripped at the front of his jumper with the other. 

They kissed fast and hard, their tongues and lips tangling. Potter pulled at Draco's lips with his teeth and Draco bit him in reply. Potter gasped and kissed Draco harder. Potter pushed one leg between Draco's. Draco ground his erection against Potter's thigh. Potter moaned in his mouth and Draco ground his cock again. Fuck it felt good, but he didn't want to do it again. He wasn't going to get carried away and hump Potter's leg like a dog. 

Potter pulled his leg away and moved them out of the kitchen. Draco hoped they were going to a chair, a sofa, or hell the rug in the corridor would do, but Potter moved him towards the stairs. Draco pulled away from their kiss and said, "All the way upstairs?" 

"Want me to fuck you right here?" Potter reached for Draco's trousers and began undoing them while he pushed his other hand down the back of them. 

Draco reached for the hem of Potter's jumper and pushed it, and the t-shirt he wore underneath, up, exposing Potter's stomach and chest. He dropped his head to Potter's chest and pulled one nipple into his mouth. Potter snapped his hips in reply and pushed his hand down the back of Draco's pants and grabbed his arse. 

"Let's stay here," Draco said as he moved his mouth to Harry's other nipple and palmed Harry's cock. 

"Upstairs," Potter said rolling his hips into Draco's hand. "Thought about you in my bed. Want you in my bed."

Draco stopped at this and looked at Potter's face. "You fantasised about fucking me in your bed?" 

"I'll fuck you anywhere but yes, usually." 

"Christ, Potter, you need to put some imagination in your fantasies. In my more tame ones you have me bent over a table or up against the wall." 

"Keep talking and I'll make you suck my cock. That's my oldest one about you. Shutting you up by fucking your mouth." 

Draco couldn't help but smirk at him as he replied, "We'll do that next. I want you in my arse." 

"Then get upstairs." 

They managed to make it to Potter's room and get most of their clothes off at the same time. Potter still had his boxers and Draco was still in his shirt. Draco didn't bother noticing what Potter's room looked like, he was too distracted looking at Potter's body. Draco's ran his hand down his smooth flat stomach, he swirled his fingers in the black hairs that led down Potter's stomach before he pushed his hand into Potter's pants and slowly stroked his cock. It felt thick and hot in Draco's hand, and the head was already damp. Draco wanted to drop to his knees and swirl his tongue around the crown of it. 

Potter reached for Draco's cock, which was achingly hard, and began stroking it. He stroked up twisting his hand just so and then back down. He cupped Draco's balls for a moment and then stroked Draco's cock again. Draco thought of the way Potter's hand could delicately trace across blossoms but also how their first encounter had left bruises on Draco's arms. Knowing Potter could do both, with his strong and delicate hands now on Draco's cock, made him dizzy with need. 

They reached the bed and Draco pulled his hand away from Potter's cock. He turned around and leaned over the bed. He sucked two fingers in his mouth and then took them out. He spread his legs wide and pushed the spit-slicked fingers into his arse. "Fuck me," Draco said as he looked up at Potter. 

Potter pushed his pants down his narrow hips and kicked them away. He stroked his cock and said, "Put another finger in, two isn't enough." 

"Slick me," Draco said. His wand was somewhere in the corridor and Potter had set his down as they walked into the room, but instead of grabbing his wand, Potter reached for the bedside table and pulled out a small bottle. He poured some on his hand and rubbed it on his cock. Draco groaned and arched his back; he loved watching Potter stroke himself. 

Potter moved behind Draco and pressed his chest to Draco's back, "Changed my mind." He pulled Draco's hand away and replaced it with the head of his cock. Draco cried out as his arse stretched. "Shhh," Potter said and pressed a kiss to the nape of Draco's neck, then trailed a hand across the back of his balls. 

"More," Draco said and pushed back against Potter's cock. He wanted the burn and ache of Potter fully in him. Potter moved slightly deeper and Draco groaned in frustration. "I want you to fill me or I'll push you down and fuck myself on your cock till I'm done." 

Potter pushed hard into Draco and said, "I've always liked when you threaten me." 

"Good," Draco said. "Then fuck me harder." Draco spread his legs wide and arched his back. Potter pushed all the way in. Draco pushed back onto his cock, riding it as much as he could. 

"Fuck," Potter said, and thrust hard and fast into Draco. 

Potter lay his chest to Draco's back, pressed his arms down the length of Draco's arms and wrapped his hands around Draco's. He could feel the tough skin of Harry's palms against the back of his knuckles. Draco could feel Potter's thighs pressing to the inside of his own, and he pushed into him again and again. 

Draco looked over his shoulder at Potter, whose head was inches from his own. Potter nuzzled his head between Draco’s shoulder and neck and bit down. Draco pushed back hard against Potter sending his cock deeper inside. "Fuck me hard," Draco said. "Want to feel it for a week." 

Potter's grip tightened on Draco's hands and he rolled his hips quickly into Draco, again and again. "Yes. Like that. Hard, Harry." Draco spread his legs as wide as they would and urged Potter on. 

Draco's cock rubbed furiously against the bed, he wanted more though. He pulled one hand from Potter and wrapped it around his cock. Potter took his free hand and pressed it to the back of Draco's balls. 

"FUCK!" Draco pushed harder against Potter and furiously pumped his fist around his cock. "Fuck! Like that. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Draco cried out one last time as Potter arched his hips just so and hit that spot so that Draco was suddenly coming. His cock pulsed in his hand and his arse clenched around Potter. 

Potter grabbed Draco's hips and pulled him close sharply one last time as he came. He cried out several curse words and Draco's name as he filled Draco. Then collapsed, boneless and sweat soaked. 

Potter slowly pulled out. Draco made a noise of discomfort; his arse felt very tender. 

"You ok?" Potter whispered as he straightened the back of Draco's now very wrinkled shirt.

"Fine," Draco said back. In truth he was better than fine. Sore as his arse was, he was already wondering when Potter would fuck him again. 

Potter crawled up onto the bed and pulled Draco with him. The bed was comfortable and he felt warm and satiated pressed against Potter. 

He turned his head to Potter and Potter was staring at him. He looked funny without his glasses, and for the first time Draco noticed how thick Potter's eyelashes were. Draco couldn't help himself; he reached out and gently touched Potter's eyelashes at the corners. 

Potter made a face and pulled back slightly, "That tickled." 

"Only admiring you without your glasses." 

"Well I can hardly see you." Potter put out his hand and silently Summoned his glasses from where they had fallen on the floor. He put them back on and then looked at Draco. "That's better. Now you aren't all fuzzy." 

Draco gave Potter a half smile and pressed down further into the bed. Draco was comfortable like this. He closed his eyes, allowed his mind to drift pleasantly and for a brief moment he forgot all the things he had to do. He didn't even miss his post-fuck cigarette, which was usually the worst part about having to quit smoking. It was good to lean back on the pillow and smoke just one fag. Perhaps he didn't miss it because he'd smoked the better part of a pack earlier today. His nerves were so frayed from this wedding that he couldn't help it. And now, thinking about it, lying here beside Potter wasn't helping his situation either. 

He came here for work, not an orgasm. Draco could feel his blood pressure rising. Feel the anxiety of the job not completed and not even a step closer to being so. Potter would give him his prick but not the fucking flowers? This was ridiculous. He couldn't be here in Potter's bed like everything between them was great and wonderful. Draco was in a fucking corner and there was no way out. 

Draco sat up. He had to go. 

"You all right?" Potter asked and reached for him. 

Draco looked down at Potter, he was completely naked and sex rumpled, but he had his glasses on, making him look too adorable. It made Draco's stomach boil. "I was wondering that since I gave you what you wanted that maybe I can have my flowers now." 

"Gave me what I wanted?" Potter said and propped himself up on one elbow. 

"Yes. You fucked me. Now I get my flowers." 

Potter's mouth dropped open and then he said, "Get. Out." 

"What? When should I expect my delivery?" Draco replied.

"You should leave. Now." Potter got up from the bed, grabbed his pants and pulled them back on. He then started picking up Draco's discarded clothes and throwing them at him. 

"If refusing an important customer, such as myself, is the way you run your business then I don't think you'll be in business for very much longer." 

"You're right, because I don't think fucking people will get me what I want. Sorry it didn't work this time for you. You only get a well-used arse for your trouble. You use your prick to try and get ahead, some things never change. Get. Out." 

Draco had been called a slut a lot in his life. Pansy couldn't go an hour without some casual reference to Draco's supposed promiscuity. Those times were all in good humour, though. Now, for the first time Draco saw that some people might actually believe it. Especially Potter, who stood there in nothing but his boxers with his face hard with contempt and disgust. 

That expression hurt worse than anything Potter had said. Draco practically ran out of the room. He could not be out of Potter's presence quick enough. Draco allowed himself to get too comfortable even though he knew it would be like this. Potter was always going to reject him. He'd sent him packing the first time and would to it again and again. Draco had to get out now before the hurt was too much.

**** 

Draco was exhausted. He should be home in bed. His fruitless trip to Australia had completely messed up his body. The cold drizzly autumn weather, which he usually loved, annoyed and confused him. His body kept telling his mind it was time for warmer weather and green leaves, not dying trees.

He flipped manically through _Boham's Manual to Common Maladies_. His arms felt tingly, he was sure he was having a heart attack. He couldn't breath right and there was a tightness in his chest that wouldn't go away. His legs also felt heavy and his feet were too big for his body. 

"You're fine," MacMillan said for the fifty-second time, but that didn't stop Draco. He needed to see what was wrong so that when he checked himself into Saint Mungo's he could tell them how to fix it. 

"Draco, darling, you look like shit," Jessica said as she breezed into Draco's office. Jessica had owled that morning, saying she would be by later to discuss the final details of the wedding. Draco knew that when she arrived he would have to tell her that he couldn’t get everything she wanted; at that point Draco was sure he would be fired. Draco hated failing. It was a tough thing to swallow. Ever since the owl, Draco's symptoms had grown worse and now with Jessica there they were at their height. He turned the pages of the book faster. 

"Isn't autumn the best time of the year?" Jessica continued, either not noticing or pretending not to notice that Draco hadn't acknowledged her. "I love the leaves, and all the pumpkins. There's a crispness to the air." 

"It is nice," Macmillan replied. "Don't you agree, Draco?" Macmillan kicked Draco underneath their adjoining desk. 

Draco shut the book with a snap and looked up at Jessica, "It's all right." Draco pushed back his chair to stand up. The sooner he told Jessica the sooner he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. If she wanted to fight and yell at him, he was ready for that. He had been holding a lot back this whole time. "Jessica, I -" 

"Dean and I just went out to this flower farm. It's Harry Potter's. You know he and Dean were in the same house. You remember that, they were practically attached at the hip. Harry invited us out to look around. I wasn't really impressed initially. He was in work trousers with mud on them, too casual. And his hair, it was a god-awful mess. I thought birds had taken it over to make a nest in it." Now Jessica had crossed the line. Potter might be a lot of things, and he might be exactly those things Jessica had just said, but it was not her place to say them. Draco and Potter had history, he was the only one allowed to cross certain lines.

"Did you expect him to be in a dinner jacket?" Draco asked. 

Jessica laughed like a hyena. "Draco you are so funny. This is why I haven't fired you yet. The farm was small, modest, he only has the one field." Draco somehow felt vindicated that Potter hadn't shown her his other magical gardens. "But what he had was beautiful. He had champagne for us to drink,; he let Dean and I walk around. He gave us a basket full of apples. He doesn't look like much but I was charmed. He told me I could have the flowers, every single last one of them. Said it was his wedding present to us." 

"Really?" Macmillan said. "Harry really is a stand up bloke." 

Draco couldn't agree. How dare Potter march in and save everything after all the shit Draco had crawled through. Give Jessica the flowers indeed. Draco was going to punch him in the face for that. 

"Came by to tell you that we're back to the original plan and only eight more days to go. Bye!" Jessica waved and Dissapparated with a _crack_.

Macmillan turned and smiled widely at Draco. "That's brilliant. You didn't tell me Harry was going to do that. He really saved your arse." 

Draco glared at Macmillan and kicked him under the desk.

**** 

Draco wasn't a coward...fine he could be one, on occasion. It wasn't his job to be brave, though. He left that to certain chosen ones. Draco wasn't being a coward right now. He was only avoiding an uncomfortable confrontation and still micro-managing Macmillan at the same time.

Potter and Macmillan were unloading flowers from the back of his beat up Land Rover while Draco kept an eye on them from behind the safety of a tree. The flowers looked good from here, but that didn't mean Macmillan shouldn't check every single one. Draco knew he should have never hired a Hufflepuff -- too fucking trusting. 

Draco didn't put his faith in Potter either. After what happened that night it would be fair of Potter to try and get back at Draco. Draco's anxiety and mouth had not served him well, once again. 

They finished unloading the flowers and Draco wanted to run to check them, but Potter wasn't leaving. He was leaning against the side of his car chatting with Macmillan. 

"Get him the fuck out of here," Draco whispered to himself. "You have a job to do Macmillan, stop sucking Potter's cock." Draco didn't add that that particular job should be left to him. He was done lusting after Potter. 

Draco looked at his watch. He was running late and needed to get a move on. Draco stepped out from behind the tree and walked over to the marquis, straight past Potter. "Macmillan, tea time's over. Lets go," Draco said as he walked by. 

"Right, see you later, Harry," Macmillan called out at he caught up with Draco. 

Draco was almost to the safety of the marquis when Potter called out, "Draco!" 

Draco stopped and turned around. "What is it Potter, I'm very busy." 

"I hope the flowers meet your approval," Potter said. He managed to look boyish and sexy at the same time, which irritated Draco. 

"I'm sure they're fine. If not, I know where to find you." 

"Maybe I should have delivered dead ones and given you a reason to come find me." 

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Potter had the nerve to flirt with him in front of Macmillan. 

Draco nodded and turned back and hurried into the marquis. Macmillan was grinning like an idiot. "So...you and Harry?" 

"Shut up," Draco snapped. 

"You two always had a thing, didn't you?" Macmillan said with a slap on the back. 

"If you value your life shut up now Macmillan. It's never going to happen. I insulted him on purpose the other night, doubtful he's forgotten." 

Macmillan shrugged and lifted a bucket of orange lilies up onto the table to be cut and arranged. "I'm sure you'll both get over it. It couldn't be much worse than what you said to each other as kids. You both have tempers, he'll understand." 

"There is nothing to understand," Draco said as he viciously stripped leaves from the flowers. 

"He'll be back later for the ceremony. Give it a shot." 

Draco winced. He had neglected to remember that Potter was a guest. As if this wedding wasn't enough to handle already. "You're fired Macmillan, now hand me that wire."

*

Draco watched from outside the marquis as the sun set and Jessica walked down the aisle on her father's arm. It was magnificent. From everything big like the candles, the flowers, the music, and the setting sun to the small details like Dean's pocket square, which Draco had spent three days picking out. It was the perfection Draco strived for. Now, for a moment, for the forty-two minutes the ceremony would last, he could enjoy it. 

"Draco." 

Draco turned and saw Potter striding toward him. He wore a Muggle suit as the invitation had dictated, even though it was a magical ceremony. He had a black waistcoat with a black tie and looked far too good. "Potter," Draco hissed. "You're late. You can't go in." 

Potter grabbed Draco above his elbow and pulled him with him. "How long is the ceremony?" 

"Get your hands off me," Draco said, trying to break out of Potter's grip, but Potter just gripped harder and pulled Draco along. "I am working if you hadn't noticed." 

"How long do we have?" Potter looked at the battered gold watch he wore. Draco would have to buy him a new one, that watch had seen better days, but if he had to guess that watch had more sentimental value to it than Draco would ever comprehend. 

"We don't have any time at all, let go!" Draco stomped on Potter's foot, but Potter only cursed and didn't let go. 

Potter dragged him out onto the lawn and looked gormlessly around. How shocking he hadn't thought this far ahead. Potter spotted the fairy-lit path that led to the reception marquis. He pulled Draco that way. "How long?" 

"I don't know how long. Take me back I have work to do," Draco said with far more indignation than he felt.

Potter pulled Draco round so that they were face to face, their chests pressed together. "I saw you hiding behind the tree today. I wanted to talk to you, but wasn't going to make you when I knew you were busy. I know you know exactly how long this bloody thing will last and I plan to use every minute to talk to you." 

"Talk?" Draco said with a sneer. 

Potter grabbed him and roughly kissed him. "I saved your arse, it's the least you owe me," Potter said as he pulled away leaving Draco's lips aching from the scrape of his teeth against them. 

"That was your wedding gift. You did nothing for me," Draco retorted and then pulled Potter in for another kiss, then bit Potter's soft, full, bottom lip. 

Potter hissed and pulled away. "Don't be stupid, you know I did it for you." Potter pushed Draco away but didn't let go of him. He pulled him towards the marquis and towards the WC. 

"I never asked you to save me, Potter," Draco said as Potter shoved him through the door and slammed it behind him. 

"Harry. I like you and that's when you do when you like someone, you give them flowers." Potter slowly walked toward Draco and Draco backed away with each step Potter took until his back was against the wall. 

"You don't give someone an entire crop, Potter." Draco frantically looked around the room to see if there was any way out. There wasn't. 

"I do." Potter put one arm against Draco's chest and grabbed the waist of his trousers with the other. He put his face right in front of Draco's, so close that the frame of his glasses bumped Draco's cheeks. "Say, Harry. I think we've been through enough you owe me that." 

"If I call you Harry will you leave me alone?" Draco asked, his voice a pathetic breathy whisper. 

"No. I want you to know how much I like you." 

"I can feel your prick against my thigh, I get it." Draco pressed his thigh to Potter's...Harry's erection. 

"I don't think that's enough." Harry moved both his hands to the clasp on Draco's trousers and began undoing it as he dropped to his knees. Draco almost told him not to, he didn't want Harry to get his trousers dirty but the WC was exceptionally clean. The white tiles gleamed and it smelled warm, like cinnamon. 

Harry didn't tease Draco but undid his zipper quickly and then pulled Draco's cock free from his pants and said, "Fuck, you're hard." Draco didn't tell him that he'd been hard the moment he saw Harry walking toward him, looking perfect in his choice of attire with his eyes burning like he was going to fuck Draco in front of all the wedding guests. 

Harry pulled Draco into his mouth and sucked him all the way down to the base. He pulled back, then pulled Draco's foreskin back and swirled his tongue around the head. Draco looked down. He couldn't believe what was happening even though Harry's tongue on his cock made his knees shake. Harry looked up at Draco as he swirled his tongue around. "How long?" he said before he pulled Draco all the way into his mouth again. 

Draco checked his watch. "Thirty-three minutes." 

Draco tangled his fingers in the back of Harry's hair and thrust sharply into his mouth. Harry groaned and pressed his tongue along the back of Draco's cock. "Yes, fuck, like that. Fuck me like that." Harry groaned again and began bobbing his head faster. He reached up and brushed his fingers against Draco's balls causing them to draw up and tighten. Draco curled his hand in Harry's hair and gripped his shoulder with the other one as he rocked faster, pressing into Harrys mouth. He felt Potter's face rub against him, he was taking him so deep. Harry's throat flexed and swallowed around him. "God! Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck, " Draco said and pushed as hard as he could. Harry rolled his balls and then pushed a finger in his arse and Draco was done. He cried out and came hard down Harry's throat as he pulled his hair and snapped his hips.

Draco's opened his eyes and his vision was blurry, making him feel a little dizzy. He dropped to his knees, pushed Harry back and lay on top of him. He shoved his hand down Harry's pants and stroked his long, thick, cock as he kissed his neck and whispered in his ear. 

"You think that's what you have to do to keep me?" Draco asked, gripping Harry's cock firmly and turning his wrist with each down stroke. "Suck my cock and I'm yours? 

"Thought it would...help," Harry said with a stutter as he thrust up into Draco's fist. "Fuck." 

"Takes more than flowers and a blow job." Draco traced his lips along Harry's jaw and kissed him on the neck. "I want you desperate for me." 

"God, fuck, already am," Harry said straining his back to thrust faster and fisting his hands in Draco's jacket. 

"Come on my hand then. Come in your pants. Show me how bad you want me. Fuck yourself in my hand, Harry." 

"God, yes." 

Potter whimpered and moaned. His eyes were squeezed shut as he thrust manically into Draco's fist. Draco watched him so eager and desperate that he'd take Draco to the loo for a quick fuck. Draco didn't know if he'd ever seen anything hotter in his entire life: Harry being turned inside out for a fucking hand-job and practically coming when Draco said his first name. He could feel the stirs of arousal already starting in his groin again. 

"Good, like that. Fucking yourself faster," Draco said, sliding his thumb across the head of Harry's cock. "Come, Harry. Come so hard you have to scream." 

Harry snapped his hips erratically. "Jesus fuck. Yes!" Harry yelled as he came. The pulse of his cock in Draco's hand and the hot silky feel of his come going everywhere made Draco groan. Damn, he wanted to pull down Harry's pants and lick him clean until he was hard and they could do it again. 

Harry fumbled for his wand and with a quick wave cleaned them both up. Draco hadn't even taken his hand out of his pants when Harry said, "How long?" 

Draco looked at Harry's watch; it was easier to see from this angle than his own. "Are you going to be insulted if I told you how long it took?" 

"Merlin, no," Harry said. "I didn't pull you to the loo for hours of sex." 

"Still not telling you. I don't want to bruise your ego," Draco said. 

Harry pulled him in for a kiss and said, "At least you have some regard for my feelings." 

"I have lots of regard for your feelings. Just not as many as I have for my own." 

"I didn't mean to upset you. I was only being me," Harry said and Draco punched him in the arm. "Ow! What was that for?" 

"Don't apologise. I did want to upset you, but I instantly regretted it." Draco pulled away from Harry and stood up. He began straightening his clothes as Harry stood. "Don't make a habit of fucking me in the WC, I'm not that kind of boy. Alright?" Draco asked as he straightened his tie. He looked at Harry from under lowered lashes. 

"Later at my place then? What time is this over with?" 

"I'll be lucky to be out of here before two A.M." 

Harry winced but nodded. Draco knew that was far too late for Farmer Potter to be up and Draco didn't want a cranky companion. "You go home when you're tired. I'll Floo over when I'm done and wake you up by riding your cock. Sound good?" 

Harry didn't answer but pulled Draco in for a long slow kiss.

**** 

"This bride wants all white flowers. Including roses." Draco looked at Harry from over the top of the owl post.

Harry didn't stop drizzling treacle on his porridge as he said, "I don't grow roses." 

"What if I asked really nice. You know I hate getting my flowers from anywhere else." Draco put down the letter and batted his eye-lashes, but Harry was ignoring him as he took yet another spoon of treacle for his porridge. 

"It takes awhile to get them going and they're a pain in the arse. Get them somewhere else." 

"She's not getting married for three years." 

Harry snorted and said, "I'll be stuck with all the roses then because that wedding is never going to happen." 

Draco reached over and touched Harry on the arm. "I'll make it worth all your hard work." 

Harry looked up at him, finally, and asked, "How?" 

Draco looked around trying to figure out exactly how to entice Harry. He saw the sticky container of treacle and pulled it towards him. "I'll let you eat this off of me instead of your boring old porridge." 

Harry stood up from his chair and began unbuckling his jeans. "Bend over Malfoy, you've got a deal."   
Draco couldn't help but smile. He loved doing business with Harry.


End file.
